Bad desire
by dreamsanddays89
Summary: He's her hot, single older physical education teacher that senses a difficult past. She's his new, intriguing student. What happens when a lapse of judgement is made and a secret illicit romance forms? Forbidden romance HEA no cheat
1. Chapter 1

HI-ALL, I'M NEW TO THIS SO PLEASE DON'T BE TOO HARSH OR MEAN. I FOUND OUT ABOUT A PLACE LIKE THIS TO WRITE STORIES VERY RECENTLY SO THIS IS MY FIRST GO. I'M A FSOG ADDICT SO THIS IS MY ATTEMPT TO WRITE AN ANA/CHRISTIAN STORY, BUT IN A DIFFERENT SETTING, A SORT OF FORBIDDEN ROMANCE.

BAD DESIRE

"Ana, fuck," Christian grunts as he thrusts in and out of her.

Ana tightens her hold with her fingers flexing over the taut muscles on his biceps, her nails pinching into his skin. With every thrust, every tilt of his pelvis, he takes her to another mystical pleasurable place that she loves to be when they are like this.

"You gonna come, baby?" He grazes his teeth up along her throat before pulling back to whisper into her lips. "You gonna come for me?"

"Yes!" Muscles clenching instinctively, heart hammering, Ana's head falls back against the cement wall, her eyes landing thoughtlessly on the shelving above them, the buckets and cleaning products stacked on them in the cleaning cupboard, as a soft grunt escapes her teeth. She feels her legs start to shake when he reaches between them, using his fingers as well, rubbing the pads of them around her hard clit. "Oh, my god," she moans, her head falling back again in bliss, hair falling in her eyes. Her eyes land on the cobwebs on the ceiling this time, the dust. "Oh, God."

"Come on," he encourages. "Feel it." He feels each tremor as it goes through her body. He watches her face closely, the flushed cheeks, the tongue peeking out slightly from her mouth as she bites down gently with her teeth- and he knows she's nearly there, this is the face she uses, and God, he loves that he can read her so easily. When she finally cries out, he kisses her mouth, swallowing her moans. "That's a girl." Ana's responding kiss ends up drowning his own long moan as he empties into the condom, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers as they both still. "Shit, that felt so good, baby."

They stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time, listening to their own labored breathing. Ana's fingers run back and forth up his forearms, tracing a soothing pattern over his muscles while being particularly careful not to touch him in his "no-go-zones."

Then, Christian drops his head and kisses her shoulder before easing back outside of her gently. He removes the full condom, watching her as she smiles at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes while she leans off the wall, kneeling slightly to pull up her panties and her jeans.

God, he definitely loved this with her. She is so different now compared to when they first got together. No longer hesitant and more actively involved and daring. Eyes still on him, Ana comes forward again, reaching down, hooking each of her forefingers through his belt loops, gliding his trousers up over his waist. He makes a deep hum of approval at the back of his throat as she pulls up his fly and buttons up his trousers, a mischievous look still there in her eyes.

He definitely likes this part of it too. How helpful she is afterwards, like his little minion, his slave helping redress him.

He hears her clear her throat a little hoarsely while she pretends to straighten the collar of his white business shirt. "There we are," she says, her voice husky with satisfaction. "Now we're all good to go, Mr Grey."

He puts on his voice, the one he knows has a tendency to make her laugh, and strokes the tip of her nose once with his forefinger tenderly. "Good girl." He smiles when he succeeds and a short giggle escapes her.

* * *

Ana walks towards her class with her books tucked to her chest, her school satchel hanging off one shoulder and banging against the back of her ankles, head down low. High school is hard, and she knows she'll never fit in, she'll never belong. It's worse enough that she had to come in later during the year when the term had already started, all because she was sent off to live with her step-father Ray. She feels all the school kids stare at her as she walks past, judging her, gossiping about her. She's the new girl, invading a school where people have probably already settled into their cliques, their gangs. She'll never fit in now.

"Who's that?" she hears a girl ask from her locker. "What's with the dorky clothes?"

Her eyes shut a moment, her head stays down. Responding would be so satisfying, even more would be yelling for those staring at her to stop, but she doesn't. Sometimes it's easier being quiet when you're the new meat at school.

"Don't you all have something important to do such as getting to class?" His curt growl startles her, drawing her attention.

Ana lifts her eyes to him, seeing him for the first time, standing there, her eyes to his; Blue to gray. He's clearly some sort of teacher at the school, a few years older maybe, obviously too old to be a student. He's incredibly good looking. Tall at around six feet, dressed in a white dress shirt that clings to him, folded at the elbows, showing muscles, and grey slacks, his hair ruffled. She understands as the girls start moving along from their lockers, as everyone stops staring and starts moving briskly along the corridors. He's obviously some type of teacher-someone who holds authority over the students, otherwise why would they have snapped to it so quickly?

"Dork," another girl mutters, and her shoulder bangs into Ana's.

Christian's eyelids flicker as he watches the girl stumble slightly. He stares at her, how pitiful she looks, her shoulders tense and squared, head low, brown bangs dangling around her face. He's never seen her at the school before, she must be new here, yet he's had enough experience in his own years of starting high school to know how rough it can be, particularly the treatment as a new kid at the school. His heart clenches as she lifts her gaze to look at him once more, then she glances away, down, carrying on to her class.

He watches her go down the corridor, clutching his binder in a crushing grip.

* * *

She bumps his shoulder. Her books fall to the floor.

"I-I'm sorry," Ana stutters, meeting the boy's dark eyes for a moment before glancing back down, biting her lip.

"Hey, it's okay," he laughs. "My fault."

"No, I think it was actually mine," she gets out hurriedly. "I really wasn't watching where I was-"

"-Hey, it's cool. I'm Jose, by the way." He smiles at her, reaching down to collect her books. "You new here?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm Ana."

"What class you have?"

She starts to feel better. It would really help her if someone like him was nice enough to show her the ways to her classes. "Um, I have Biology first. Then I have P.E."

"Really?" He laughs in an obnoxiously loud, yet infectious way. "Me too. How funny." He doesn't give her books back, instead helping her carry them. "Have you gotten your locker yet?"

"No, I haven't. I guess that's why I've been lugging all these heavy books around," she tries to joke.

"Yeah, I noticed. Lockers help, believe me. Here, I can show you, then we can head to our first class together."

* * *

Christian stands in the large gym room, waiting for the rest of the class to fill in, changed into his gear for the day. He wipes the pads of his fingertips against his shorts uncontrollably while waiting for the last of his class to come in. Kate Kavanagh and Lauren are gossiping while texting on their phones as usual. He's worked out a special thing this year- called the 'tech basket'- where he gets all the students to put their phones into the basket until the lessons over. He reaches over to get the basket and start calling everyone in attendance to start putting their phones inside when he notices her walk into the gymnasium room.

It's the new girl he saw in the morning, but she's walking with one of his students, the boy Jose Rodriguez. Jose talks to her animatedly while the girl simply smiles, both hands in front of her as she plays with her fingers. As they stop and stand near the center of the gym, he finally addresses the class while grabbing the basket.

"All right, before we start, you all know how this goes," he says, raising his voice clearly. A few students groan. He sees Miss Kavanagh roll her eyes. "Put your phones and any other technology in the basket." He strolls around the circle, watching each student as they grudgingly place their phones into the basket with a sordid sense of satisfaction. Children and their phones these days. "No one here is allowed to be distracted during my class." As he reaches the new girl and Jose, stopping by them, he notices the girl smiles at him nervously while lifting her hands up. "Your phone," he orders.

"M-Mine's in my locker," she explains, her voice softer than he is expecting.

He feels his heart pulse with pleasure. Apparently the new student already know how it went down with phones not being allowed in during classes. "Good girl." After Jose places his phone in the basket, he places it down near the side of the wall, turning to face his class again. "Today, firstly, we're going to do some games." Ignoring the groans around him, he grabs the basket of sports balls he'd set out in preparation for the lesson earlier, dragging them closer. "Then after we've warmed up, I want you all to do some laps around the gym."

He's been working for years to finally accomplish his dream of becoming a teacher, more specifically a Physical Education Teacher. He'd studied for 4 years to get a Bachelor of Science in Education degree with an emphasis on physical education. Two years ago, he started by being an assistant when one of the teachers was sick, being a fill-in. Hard work paying off, now Christian's finally where he wants to be; Teaching about health, sports, and nutrition, something he saw vital for most children their ages to learn.

Ana watches as the teacher grabs one of the balls, bouncing it between his parted feet while directing the class. She still cannot believe he's actually a teacher- and that he ended up being her physical education teacher, of all things.

Just when she was starting to think it had been nice of him before to call the girl's out on being rude, and for everyone staring at her, just her luck, the cute guy ends up being her P.E teacher. Ana isn't very coordinated, and she hates sports with a passion. This is bound to be embarrassing- even more embarrassing, showing off her clumsiness to the hot P.E teacher.

She finds herself fidgeting nervously with her fingers as she watches him effortlessly command the class into getting into groups. As she goes to stand with Jose, she realizes he's already paired up with another boy.

"Sorry, Ana," he says, smiling glumly. "I usually pair up with Paul."

Ana looks around in a panic, noticing everyone has a partner except her. And the teacher.

"You." She whips her head towards him, surprised that he is even talking to her. And dreading what's to come. "Looks like we'll be partnering up, seeing as we're the other two left without a group. Is that all right with you?"

He cocks an eyebrow up while waiting for her answer, tossing the ball easily between both hands.

"Um, no," she answers, her voice soft as a whisper.

"No, it's not all right to partner up?" She senses he's amused.

"Um, no, I mean... I don't mind if we partner up. Sorry."

"Then good. What's your name? Your new to my class, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm Anastasia. Ana Steele, Sir."

"I'm Mr Grey, but please, I don't mind if you or the other students call me by my first name, which is Christian. Most of the others call me Christian anyway." She isn't used to calling a teacher by their actual first name; It seems strange. At her last school in Georgia, they were strict against it. "I like having a relaxed relationship with all my students."

"I'll just call you Mr Grey," Ana decides quietly.

"Fair enough. Suit yourself."

As they start bouncing the ball and he passes it to the new girl, Anastasia Steele, Christian stares at her, trying not to laugh or show his amusement. She isn't very good at dribbling the ball; In fact, she loses the ball twice when it ricochets off the tip of her sneakers, which only causes her to laugh softly and flush while running her fingers through her fringe. She won't meet his eyes, like she's shy. He wonders if he can find out more about her, about her home life, where she came from, and how she's finding the particular move to Seattle so far.

"You've joined late in the year?" He tries to encourage her to speak.

"Um, yeah. I just recently moved to live with my step-father, so I'm here now."

"Where did you originally come from?"

She glances his way quickly before glancing down again, concentrating on dribbling the ball, strands of hair falling in front of her face. "I used to live in Georgia, where I was born, with my Mom."

"And you're liking it here so far?"

She shrugs as she lifts her gaze to his briefly. "I guess so. I guess it was the... easiest option for my mother and her new husband." Something in the way she says it catches his attention, but she doesn't elaborate. As he watches her, trying to work her out, waiting for her to expand more, he notices the mark on her inside of her left slender wrist. A long line mark, like a scar.

"What happened to you?" He asks before he can stop himself.

"Huh?" Ana glances up at him confusedly. "With what?" She sees the way he gestures towards her wrist, then she glances down herself, realizing immediately. Great. "Oh, that's, um, that's nothing."

"You sure about that?" His concern is immediate. Rationalizing, he tells himself that's how he would respond to most of the students in his class if he came across worrying scars or bruises on their bodies. "Care to talk about it? If you need somebody with an open-mind that is willing to listen, Anastasia, then I'd be more than happy to." He watches her eyes, waiting to see any sign of what she wants.

Only she doesn't respond. She keeps her head low, her eyes to the ball, focusing, yet he senses he's gotten under her skin. He needs to know more about her. He doesn't know why, but she's gotten under _his_ skin, and so quickly.

After the bell rings and the lesson ends, everyone packs up, shoving the balls back into the basket while Christian wanders around the group again, handing out their phones. He still wants to talk to the girl, to get her alone for some privacy. "Anastasia, will you stay back with me for a moment?" he asks her, his voice low once the class starts clearing out.

He watches as she bites down on her bottom lip while turning to face the door where all the other students are going. Then she turns back to him slowly. "Why?"

"Because I'd really like to talk to you for a moment, if that's all right?"

Looking up at him, she shrugs.

"I swear you're not in trouble," he adds with humor, trying to ease her nerves.

Dropping the basket back near the wall, he moves closer towards her. Lifting his hand, he reaches out, gently grabbing onto her forearm, pulling it out.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what is this? I couldn't help noticing it when you partnered with me today and, frankly, I'm concerned." He traces his thumb over the scar gently before letting it go and staring at her. It definitely seems like a self-harm mark, that she'd cut herself. "Don't think that I'm asking because I'm judging you or that I'm going to get you into trouble; I assure you that I'm not. I would do this for any single one of my students if I saw something that concerned me."

Ana sighs, glancing down at the mark on her wrist herself before folding her arms over her stomach nervously. She still feels the tingle from where his thumb stroked around it. "I had a hard time back in Georgia, that's all." She's not even sure how this is any of his business. "But I'm fine now. I don't even know why I have to tell you this, I don't even know you, nor you me."

"I understand that. But I want you to know that if, no matter when, you're having a hard time like you did in Georgia, that there's someone here for you available if you ever need someone to talk to. I'd be more than happy to." He smiles at her; the first time she's actually seen him smile since first coming across him at school. And for a teacher, his smile is surprisingly enigmatic. She can't believe someone would be so caring yet meddlesome into her own business. "If you have any concerns at all, whether it's to do with... classmates or you're feeling stressed, feel free to come to me." He reaches out, gripping onto her shoulder quickly before letting go. "I'd be more than happy to assist and help in anyway you need."


	2. Chapter 2

THANK YOU FOR BEING SO KIND, I WAS WOWED BY YOUR REVIEWS AND THE ALERTS. I DIDN'T THINK I WOULD GET THAT, SO THANK YOU! HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE, I'M SO NERVOUS. OH, AND OBVIOUSLY, I OWN NOTHING. THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO E.L JAMES. I'M JUST A FAN PLAYING WITH THEM.

* * *

"Dad, I'm home," Ana calls as she gets inside the front door.

Slamming the front door closed, she grabs the strap of her satchel, dumping it on the floor before stepping inside. The house is still going to take some time to get used to. Her step-father, Ray's house isn't like her Mom's. It's smaller, a two bedroom house with a conjoined kitchen and living room. Her bedroom is the guestroom that Ray hadn't had anyone sleep in for years. It doesn't feel as homely as her mother's back in Georgia; It isn't as warm and inviting. Ray hardly has any decorative features in the place. No pictures on the walls, no little decorative knickknacks around the house to make it seem more lively. The house feels empty and clinical.

"Oh, hey, honey." Ray calls out to her from in the living room. "How was your first day at school?"

She finds him sitting back on his couch, still dressed in his day's work uniform, a can of opened beer in one hand while his feet are stretched out on an old, faded ottoman. Ray works a casual nine-to-five job in a retail store. Before she had to move in with Ray, Ana had stayed with him occasionally every six months for a weekend. Now, she'd be staying a lot longer than just a weekend.

She slips past him to sit on the couch next to him, sinking down into the springy sofa. "School was okay," she explains quietly, staring at what he's watching on the TV. Ray's watching some sort of documentary on mining.

Ray takes a sip from his beer as he shifts slightly on an angle to stare at her. Sometimes Ana can see why her mother decided to divorce Ray, though she feels bad at times thinking it. He's too easy going, too go-with-the-flow, happy and content on just living a modest life, with no prospects of bettering his work situation. He's all too happy to come home after five hours and relax on the sofa, drinking a few beers whereas Ana's mother always loved having a bit of a night-life and getting dressed up to go out.

Ana often wonders if that's the main reason why they divorced in the first place; Their contrast in personalities, Ray and her. His go-with-the-flow personality aside, Ana also found Ray to be the most supportive, genuinely happy person in her life. He always seemed to truly care about her, despite them not truly being father and daughter, aside from through her mom's previous marriage to him.

"Did you make any new friends?"

Ana's stomach curls uneasily at the question. While she had already assumed her first day would be tough, especially coming in late when everybody else had already started and settled in, she hadn't made a single friend that day. Aside from Jose Rodriguez of course, but she wasn't sure if she would consider him a friend made. "Not really, no," she admits with a frown, lacing her fingers together. "Everyone else was already pretty much settled into their groups of friendships. I felt like the outsider."

"Well, I guess it must be hard, coming in late into the semester when everybody else has started," Ray remarks gently. "But don't worry, kiddo. You'll get there and make some friends eventually. You're a good kid."

"I hope so."

"And how did you find the teachers? Were they helpful?"

"Some were, sure. Most were extremely welcoming."

She thinks of what happened that day, how in P.E, she had to partner with her new teacher, Mr Grey. Christian. It was sort of embarrassing, how he was asking her personal questions, trying to learn about the scar on her wrist. Do teachers usually do that to their students?

"Well, that's good," Ray murmurs happily. "The teachers should help you with settling in. Got any homework yet?"

"No, not yet. But I'm sure I'll have some shortly." Hating to talk about herself, Ana tries to change the topic. "Anyway, how was your day at work?"

Ray takes the bait, beginning to tell Ana and humorous story about one of the customers he had that day. It makes her laugh and smile, how Ray's eyes light up while he tells the story, how he over-exaggerates certain points of it to make her laugh. She can always trust Ray to make her feel better.

* * *

As the lessons done, Christian packs up all the sports gear, locking them into the storeroom. Then he heads towards his office, jogging quickly to the reception office to hand over the gymnasium keys. As he pushes his way through the door, he spots one of the main workers, Andrea, typing on the computer. He stops by the desk and she looks up, immediately sitting straighter.

"Good afternoon, Christian. Lesson done for another day?" she asks him with interest.

"That's right, Andrea. I'm just returning the gymnasium and the storeroom keys. Everything's all packed up and secure." He groans internally as her green eyes linger on him while he hands her over the keys.

Andrea is rather good-looking and blonde, about his age, give or take a few years. He's always sensed she's held a certain interest in him. Every time he has to come to the office to hand over the keys, he's noticed she'll try to get him to open up, to talk to her to reveal something about himself.

"How was it today, your lesson?" She asks him with a broad smile, fingering the set of keys he's handed over to her with her manicured nails.

"Just fine, the usual. It amazes me how glued kids are to their phones nowadays. I can't remember us being like that back in the day."

She laughs at his comment, though he can tell it sounds forced. He can almost sense what's coming next. "Do you have any plans for this weekend?"

It's something Andrea always tends to ask him, which is where he gets his suspicion from that she's interested in him. Going to his usual fail-proof answer, he says, "I do. I have a bit of golfing planned this weekend, Andrea. What about you?" It isn't exactly a lie; Christian likes to keep active by doing some of his hobbies on the weekend, like golfing or sailing, things that occupy his mind until he's back at work teaching.

He just wishes Andrea would see that he isn't interested. He isn't interested in going out for drinks on the weekend, or being social. He much prefers his own company, despite the moderate stings of loneliness it can sometimes bring.

"Me and Jane Miller are heading out for drinks actually. I was hoping you might be able to make it this time?" Jane Miller was another member of staff, the English teacher. From what he'd heard from Andrea, apparently they went out for drinks together often.

"Sorry, Andrea. My schedule is full this weekend."

"Thought so," she murmurs with a tone of disappointment. "Ah, well. Maybe another time then?"

"Maybe," he assures her, forcing a smile. "Have a good night," he adds, escaping anymore conversations with her politely.

"You too, Christian."

Leaning off the desk, he walks towards his office, unlocking the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock, shutting the blinds. Then he reaches for the sports bag beneath his desk, yanking it up onto the chair so that he can get changed out of his gear for the day. Stepping out of his shorts and his shirt, he changes back into his neat office attire, his white button-up dress shirt and trousers, tucking the shirt tail in. Then he pulls his office chair back, opening his binder, marking off the day's classes attendance.

Halfway through ticking the boxes of students names that he remember's were in attendance at the top of his head, he feels his cell vibrating in his pocket. He reaches in, pulling it out, checking caller I.D. It's his mother Grace. Knowing it impolite to keep her waiting, he answers, holding the phone up to his ear.

"Hello, mother. How are you?"

"Hello, Christian, honey." Her sweet, loving voice fills his ears. "I just wanted to remind you that plans are still on for Sunday to head out to dinner. Mia's arrived back."

He feels his heart soar as a smile comes across his face at the mention of his sister Mia. He adores Mia, maybe even more so than his older brother Elliot. She's been away travelling around the world with her current boyfriend Spencer, and, last he heard of her, she'd sent him a photo of her drinking in Greece.

"She's back already? I thought Mia wasn't returning until the third of July?"

"Yes, well, apparently things have happened. Her and Spencer broke up."

"Ah." He reaches up, running his fingers through his hair, unsurprised somewhat by the news. He'd met Spencer once, and found him immediately too obnoxious. He'd felt Mia was better than Spencer at the time, that Mia had been too good for him, although he wasn't sure if that was just a usual doting, protective brother way to feel. "Can't say that I didn't see that coming."

Grace laughs. "Yes, I know. Terrible as it is to say it, I had that feeling myself when we met him at dinner that time before they left on their trip. But let's not mention that to Mia, alright? She's heartbroken."

"Why would she be heartbroken? She was too good for him to begin with."

"Well, let's not tell her that." His mother laughs again softly. "So Sunday then, darling?"

"Yes, Sunday, of course. You know I wouldn't miss the chance to see her."

"Good boy. Love you."

"Yeah, you too, Mom." Grace hangs up and he sits his phone back on the desk, trying to concentrate on marking the last of the forms of student attendance.

Down the page, towards the S's, he comes across the name Anastasia Steele, and his pen stills. The new girl. He leans back in his recliner, playing that morning through, their conversations. She'd seemed so guarded, so tense when he'd inquired about the scar on her wrist.

It's hard to say without truly knowing, but he'd definitely say she'd been self-harming. He had a student previously, a boy in his class, that he'd noticed have some dodgy-looking scars himself. As it turned out, that boy had been self-harming and mutilating himself due to home troubles and school pressures.

Maybe he'd make a note to check in with her on their next lesson? It definitely seemed better to be safe than sorry. He figured it was all part of his duty of being a teacher; To take things seriously and ensue his students were alright.

Finally done, he tucks all sheets of paper carefully away, standing from his chair. He grabs his Armani quilted sports jacket from the back of his chair, sliding it on and yanking up the zipper while collecting the binder and all his belongings. As he steps out of his office, he flicks off the light and shuts the door, locking it up with his key.

Heading outside behind the school building, he walks towards where his black Audi R8 Spyder car is parked in the staff area while locating his keys. At least he has something to look forward to this weekend, he can't help thinking, satisfied.

Just when he was starting to think his weekend would be the same as normal, filled with him purposefully trying to distract himself by playing golf or sailing, fortunately his mother had called to remind him of plans to have dinner with the family on Sunday night. It will be great to catch up with Mia, especially seeing as now she was without that stupid Spencer hanging off her. Finally, for once his weekend routine was going to be a bit different than usual, and not as mundane and lonely.

* * *

Ana's been living with Ray for just under three days now, since she arrived off the plane in Georgia. She'd learned quickly that Ray usually liked to live off cheap takeout and pre-made meals that came in boxes and only needed to be heated up in the microwave for five minutes. But now that Ana's there, she'd enforced a few rules that things would change.

Since Ana used to cook while living with her Mom in Georgia, she'd decided to take over the cooking arrangements, while Ray agreed to stock the refrigerator and cupboards regularly with fresh fruits and vegetables. He watches Ana, standing around in the kitchen with another beer, as she starts slicing up some chicken breast while a pan heats on the stove.

"I still cannot believe how grown up you are," he says, sounding emotional. Ana rolls her eyes at the chicken, wondering if it's the beer he's been drinking that's made him feel this way. While Ray isn't what she would consider an alcoholic, he did love his beers, and regularly after work.

"Well, I am almost seventeen, Ray. I should know how to cook properly at my age."

"Your Mom never cooked back in Georgia?"

"No, she never. Well, on occasion she did, but she was hopeless." Ana remembers the one time her mother tried to cook them spaghetti, how she'd over-boiled the spaghetti. The noodles had gone all cluggy by the time she was done. "Mom couldn't even cook spaghetti properly without finding some way to make it inedible."

"Then it's lucky I have you here now, isn't it, kiddo? I'm just as bad, living off canned soup and already made frozen meals."

Ana shrugs, smiling at him. She's happy to cook for him anyway. Cooking, it seems to be one of the only things she's good at.

"How's the new husband?" Ray asks, and Ana feels her stomach muscles clench. Talking about her Mom's partner Robbin, it isn't something she wants to do.

"He's okay," she answer dismissively. "So when are you going to find a girlfriend or someone new?" she asks, keen to change the subject.

"Probably never, kiddo. I've decided I like being alone too much."

* * *

Christian pulls into his apartment parking space, shutting off the engine. Then he gathers his work belongings and climbs out of the car, locking the doors securely before he steps upstairs towards the front door. He finds his house key, unlocks it, and nudges his way inside, almost knocking over the golf clubs he has in the narrow hallway by the door.

Dumping his keys and his sports bag on the floor, he turns, shutting the door with a sigh as a cold, quiet unwelcoming silence greets him from inside.

Sometimes he gets tired living alone. There is only so much you can do on weekends to fill in the hours until your working again, but fortunately, he doesn't have to think about that until a few more days. The weekend is four days away.

Unzipping his jacket, he moves into his kitchen, opening the freezer. Tonight's meal is already prepared; meals he likes to do in advance to save himself from having to cook during the week. Skinless, boneless plain chicken breast with a side of mashed potato, green beans, and peas. He sets the container inside the microwave, letting it heat for five minutes while he goes into the living room, turning on his flat screen TV.

He starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have turned down Andrea's offer for company this weekend. His mother often worries that he's secluding himself, that he should be out dating more and meeting new people. But by the time the end of week comes, he finds himself not wanting to.

While it's somewhat lonely and isolating, living alone, eating alone, playing golf alone, Christian finds he's happier that way. That way, he doesn't need to worry about someone getting too close, to finding out too much about him, about his childhood and the way he is.

It's easier when avoiding socializing with women like Andrea, who are obviously only interested in one thing, which is getting to know him romantically as a person.

Enduring loneliness and misery seems a price worth paid.

The microwave goes off a minute later, beeping loudly, and he jogs over to it, his stomach rumbling at the idea of eating. He pulls his heated meal out, peels the lid off, and grabs a fork and knife, heading back into the living room. He sits down on his comfy U-shaped eight-seat sofa, holding the hot container in his lap while watching the evening news as he eats. Then, later on once he's done, he'll crack open a fine bottle of wine that's on his wine rack, indulging in a decadent glass or two until he felt tired enough to sleep.

That was his life, lonely and mundane as it was. Sometimes he craved love and companionship, to find someone, but a solitary life felt good enough.

* * *

Dishes washed up, Ana says goodnight to Ray and heads to her room, pulling back her bed sheets while finding the latest book she's reading. She gets changed into her baggy pajama bottoms and a loose-fitting top, then shuts her door, leaving on the lamp on the table beside her bed.

Crawling into bed and making herself comfortable, she opens the page to where she's up to, reading the paragraph up top. Reading has been something she's loved for a long time. Instead of Facebooking or being too active on the internet, books and reading has always been Ana's thing, even since she can remember. There is just something so comforting about getting swept away, lost in a fictional world of romantic characters and their way of life.

Half an hour later, she feels sluggish as she turns the page, blinking heavily, trying to keep alert and coherent. Then, she eventually drifts off.

Next morning, she gets ready for her second day of school, her stomach in knots while she dresses and brushes her hair. She knows today is going to be just as bad as it was yesterday. Somehow, she expected it to have gone a lot more smoothly, transitioning to a new school in a new state. She thought that immediately she would have made a few friends, that she'd fit in somewhere, only she hadn't. She can only hope today isn't worse.

After having some cereal for breakfast, she makes herself a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and gets ready, tucking her drink bottle and her sandwich into her satchel. Then she leaves out the front door of Ray's house to begin her walk. The walk to the school only takes roughly around fifteen minutes. Her satchel bag keeps banging against the back of her legs as she walks, her mind running on different things distractedly.

It's a sunny yet windy morning. The wind blows her fringe around her forehead as she crosses the road, the brick building of her school coming into view. As she settles into a more comfortable, slower walk, she sees the car that comes in cruising down the road at a safe, low speed. It looks like a shiny, black fancy sports convertible and her curiosity peaked, she stares and tries to look in through the window as the car pulls into the school driveway.

It's her gym teacher, her P.E teacher. Mr Grey. Christian.

The windows rolled slightly down and she feels herself go warm as suddenly she sees his gray eyes look at her through the lowered window as he pulls in. He seems to stare at her for a long moment before he looks away and passes her, disappearing in the car at the back of the school.

Even although seconds have passed since she caught him looking back at her, Ana's stomach feels funny, like it's warm, in tense knots. She still feels like cringing in embarrassment every time she remembers how she had to partner up with him, her teacher, of all people, in gym yesterday. No doubt he'd picked up on how ungainly she was, how uncoordinated when it comes to playing with the ball.

It gets even worse as she reaches the front building. He comes out of nowhere, her teacher, lugging a heavy-looking sports bag over one arm, dressed in a warm-looking puffer jacket and grey trousers. They reach the steps at the same time, and Ana's stomach does that weird thing again as he acknowledges her with a smile.

"Good morning, Anastasia," he says, his tone warm and friendly.

"Yeah, good morning, Mr Grey." She doesn't know why he makes her feel nervous and shy the way he does, but she wonders if it has something to do with him being her teacher. Even at her old school in Georgia, she'd felt some sort of inferiority compared to her teachers, mainly because they were the ones in-charge, the adults. She felt that often in the presence of police though, too.

"How are you today?"

"Um, I...I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you." He steps forward to open the school building door open for her, even although he's still hauling a heavy-looking bag. When she enters before him with a shy, thankful smiles, he continues, "I have you today for a class in second period, don't I?"

Ana had read her time-table with dread that morning, discovering she had P.E every morning except for Friday's. As someone who hates sports with a passion, it isn't something she was happy to learn. "Yep, that's right."

"Are you enjoying my class so far?" She doesn't really understand why he's interested, and it surprises her. She's not used to teachers being so invested in learning about her and what she thinks. He walks beside her, keeping close, and Ana watches him as he trails his fingers slowly through his hair. For some reason, she finds she has to look away, down at her shoes.

"Honestly? Not really," she admits, hating how high her voice sounds. "I hate sports or... any physical activity, really. I'm terrible at it."

"Then what is it that you prefer to do?"

She wonders if he's always like this with the students. Does he like making small talk, being friendly with them? "I guess reading is pretty much my main thing."

"Reading?" They've reached where her locker is in the corridor and Ana notices he halts walking to talk to her. It's as though he truly cares and she can't help thinking it's nice. It's nice for someone to show that they are interested in her for once, even if they are her teacher. He adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder, seeming blind to the other students at their lockers behind him. Ana notices a bunch of girls staring and laughing at them, only Mr Grey hasn't seemed to notice. "What sort of books do you like reading?"

"Any books, really," she confesses, turning away quickly to undo her locker. "The classics mostly. British literature."

"The classics? As in Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen? Those sort of classics?"

"Yeah, pretty much, Mr Grey."

"I'll leave you to it then. I'll see you in second period, Anastasia." She can't even muster up her confidence to watch him as she leaves. Ana feels her cheeks burn with heat as she tries to focus on putting her books away and finding the ones she needs for first period. She cannot believe he actually asked her what she likes to do, and to show actual sincere interest no less.

She hears girlish laughter again, and she finally turns, looking to see the group of girls still leaning against their lockers, staring her way. Her cheeks flush with heat again as one of the girls arch their eyebrows at her in a rude way. She wonders if maybe she'll never fit in.

When the break before second period comes, Ana rushes into the change rooms to get changed into her gym gear; track pants, her sneakers, and a loose fitting grey hoodie to wear for the lesson. As she stows her other clothes in her bag, she hears a few girls coming in, talking to themselves loudly.

"Yeah, he's such a fucktard for cheating on you."

"I know, right? And with her? She's so fugly."

"At least you have a chance with Brandon, though. He definitely likes you, and I bet he'd totally be jealous if you hooked up with him." The girls seem to fall silent when they notice Ana putting her old clothes away.

Quickly, out of fear they may start something with her, Ana closes her satchel securely before heading out into the gymnasium. She realizes it's empty as she pushes in through the door, aside from a few bright orange witches hats that line around the flooring in a circle. Nervously, she plays with her fingers at her side, standing around. Then she hears someone moving from inside the storeroom area, dragging something along on the ground.

Her stomach does that strange twisting thing again when Mr Grey appears, dragging a bag full of basketballs into the center of the room. He smiles at her as she stands there awkwardly, watching him prepare for the lesson. She can't help observing him dressed in a tight grey T-shirt and track pant shorts.

The shorts just reach past his knees, his muscular calves bared. Okay, so he's really hot and really, really attractive- she lets herself admit to herself. For a young teacher, he's really hot. And fit. He obviously takes good care of himself, which is probably sort of required of a physical education teacher to do. As he drags the bag of balls closer, she notices how muscular his arms are, how tight the shirt is.

He's really nice, too. It was nice of him to talk to her this morning, even though it was probably just an obligation as her teacher to get to know her a bit more and make the new dorky student feel more comfortable and supported in the foreign school environment.

"You're in here early, Anastasia?" He finally speaks, breaking the silence between them. "Your the first student that's arrived?"

"Um, yeah. But there's a few girls changing in the change-room so I'm not exactly the first person here."

"Texting on their phones before they have to hand them over probably." He says it with distaste. "I appreciate that you're polite enough to think of not bringing your phone in during the lesson, Anastasia. I just wish the other students would do the same themselves."

"Must get annoying at times," she observes softly.

"It does, which is why I invented a 'tech-basket' so that all the students can put their phones in it before the lesson so it doesn't serve as a distraction."

"Hey, Ana." A boy's voice interrupts their conversation. Ana turns to find Jose, the boy from yesterday, walking over to meet her with a big smile. "How are you finding your classes so far?"

Christian, trying not to see obvious with it, can't help eavesdropping in on Anastasia's conversation with the boy as he continues setting up for the lesson. He feels an odd, bitter twisting sensation in his chest when he hears Jose next.

"You're looking real pretty today, has anyone ever told you that before?"

He turns to watch as Anastasia laughs loudly in a flustered way, running a few fingers through the end strands of her long brown hair. "No, no one has ever said that before," he hears her murmur softly.

"Well, it's true. You _do_ look really pretty today."

 _Pretty, my ass,_ Christian thinks, forcing himself to turn away with difficulty. He's seen how this goes often with his students, particularly with the boys saying this to the girl's. It's their way of flirting, of trying to capture the girl's interest. He'd seen Rodriguez try it on most of the girls, and the idea of him succeeding with someone like her, it irritated him. She was too good for him. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much but it did.

Ordinarily he wouldn't dare intervene and let the girl's work it out for themselves that boys, particularly at Jose's age, were hormone-driven, sex-craving lunatics, yet something about hearing Jose try it on his student Anastasia makes him feel bitter, his stomach in twisted knots.

"This isn't the lunch yard, Mr Rodriguez," he finally lets himself speak up, his voice scolding. He looks between Anastasia and the boy, noticing them both flush and look away in embarrassment at the same time. It occurs to him what he feels is similar to jealousy. Jealousy- and for what reason and why, he isn't sure. "If you're going to do that, take it outside. But not in here, not during my class."

To his satisfaction, the boy falls silent, staring down at his sneakers while Anastasia avoids his contact. While he sometimes found his job challenging, there was no doubts it had its perks. And embarrassing sex-driven, hormonal little boys was one of them.

WHAT DID YOU THINK? I HOPE IT WASN'T POORLY WRITTEN. ALSO, I'VE CHANGED IT A BIT, WHERE CHRISTIAN IS SOMEWHAT NORMAL, AS A PE TEACHER HE MAKES AN ABOVE AVERAGE WAGE. HOPE THAT IS OKAY IF I CHANGED IT TO SUIT THE STORY. BY THE WAY, CHRISTIAN IS 23 IN THIS STORY, ANA 17. I KNOW STUDENT-TEACHER RELATIONSHIPS ARE ILLEGAL AND THAT WILL BE TOUCHED UPON, BUT MAINLY, IT WILL BE ROMANCE WITH SOME DRAMA. WHAT DO YOU THINK? LIKING? DISLIKING?


End file.
